Lupi 09 - Mortal Ties

together and chat. It’s all very civilized. I know,” he said ruefully, maybe
     reacting to her expression. “It’s strange. They’re strange. You’re taking all this
     very calmly.”
    “You seem pretty calm yourself.”
    “I wasn’t when I first woke up. Freaked out all over the place. I’ve had time to accept
     what I can’t change. It helps that she promised that her people don’t dispose of mistakes.”
    “You believe her?”
    “Oddly enough, I do.”
    Not so odd. A smart kidnapper wanted his or her hostage calm, convinced he would live
     if he obeyed. It sounded like Alycithin was a smart kidnapper. Persuasive, too. “You
     said you dine with them. In here?”
    “No, if I accept their invitation I’m escorted into the other room. If I don’t behave,
     they freeze me.”
    “Freeze you?”
    “I can’t move.” His jaw clenched tight enough to make a muscle jump. “I hate it. My
     body stops being mine. I…but they can’t do that to you.”
    “No.” It sounded like a spell Rethna had used. The sidhe lord had pointed a finger,
     and
zap
! His target couldn’t move. His flunkies hadn’t seemed able to that. Other really
     nasty things, but not the freezing. “You said ‘they.’ Do they all have the ability
     to freeze you?”
    “I…assumed so, but it was the orange-haired elf who froze me. Does it matter?”
    “It might. Elves all have some body magic and some illusion magic, but they specialize
     in one or the other. One who’s aces at body magic won’t be that strong at illusion,
     and vice versa. That freeze spell—I think it’s something only a body magic expert
     can do. What does the other room look like?”
    “It’s maybe twenty-five feet by fifteen. Chairs and a couch at one end, dining table
     at the other. Two doors on the wall opposite this bedroom, but I don’t know what’s
     beyond them. The kitchen’s on this side. I think this is an apartment or a condo—something
     about the layout makes it seem like one.”
    “You haven’t seen outside?”
    “The windows are weird in there, too.”
    Lily looked around the room again. Nothing jumped out at her as a potential weapon.
     Nothing suggested a means of escape. She might as well deal with what her bladder
     insisted was a pressing situation. “I need to use the restroom.”
    “Sure. The shower works, there’s shampoo, and you’ve got your own toothbrush. I told
     them humans did not share some things, so they brought another one. There’s a closet
     off the bathroom. No hangers we might use to poke their eyes out, but there’s a closet,
     and they brought some changes of clothes for you.”
    “Considerate kidnappers.”
    “All part of their code. From what Alycithin said, I think it’s like the Geneva Conventions.
     We have to be fed, clothed, and housed decently. I gather there are a lot of rules
     about that.”
    “The Geneva Conventions outlaw the beating or torture of prisoners.”
    “They’re not allowed to do that. They can freeze me or take my boots, but they can’t
     hit me unless I attack one of them.”
    Had Jasper lied about Adam being hurt? About him being taken in the first place? Or
     was the “other group” not following their version of the Geneva Conventions?
    Friar, of course, wouldn’t follow any codes that didn’tsuit him. Lily nodded thoughtfully and headed for the bathroom.
    The bathroom door locked. It was the push-button kind, easy enough to jimmy or bust,
     but it locked. That was a surprise. Mozart was playing in there, too. Otherwise it
     was as ordinary as the bedroom, if lacking the sort of detritus that accumulates in
     a lived-in space. On the narrow strip of counter next to the sink she found a small
     stack of washcloths, Ivory soap, and Colgate toothpaste. Two toothbrushes, one slightly
     damp from recent use, the other still in its plastic wrapper. Ordinary towels were
     draped on a towel bar. Suave shampoo in the tub enclosure. The closet was a small
     walk-in and empty except for two small, neat stacks of clothes—Sean’s things on the
     left and hers on the right. They’d provided her two pairs of jeans, two pairs of panties,
     two T-shirts, and two bras, all in her size, which was creepy. No shoes or socks.
    She emptied her bladder, splashed water on her face—her headache was easing off some—and
     turned on the shower. She did not strip and get in, though. She stood next to it and
     said very quietly, “Drummond.”

THIRTY-FIVE

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